


Lord Voldemort Never Forgets

by Run_of_the_mill



Series: Lord Voldemort, Last of the Potters [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: But there'll be a lot of hurt, Condoms can save your life!, Don't try to find my address, F/M, Harry is a great and terrible dad at the same time, Harry is hurt, Hurt and angst everywhere, I was imperiused!, I'll call the police if you come and try to murder me, I'll never admit it to any court though, I'm probably a Voldemort sympathiser, I'm singing in the pain~, Imagine that XD, Lots of it, M/M, Minor Character Death, No Incest, Not Incest, Really!, This is just a story that's been bouncing in my head for a while, Told you there'd be no incest, Voldemort is a Potter, Voldemort is back!, always use protection kids, i'll make it work, it's temporary, trust me - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2018-12-31 12:12:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12132252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Run_of_the_mill/pseuds/Run_of_the_mill
Summary: Thomas loves his father as much as his little heart is capable of. He thinks it might burst if he loves the man any more than this. It's a ridiculous thought and Thomas knows that. But, in this life, he is able to feel love and isn't that something.Harry loves his little boy, despite the circumstances of his conception. He knows it isn't right, but if he were asked to pick a favourite child, Harry would, without a doubt, choose Thomas.But Thomas, as small and innocent as he is, hides a terrible secret. He is Lord Voldemort's re-incarnation and he remembers his past life in great detail.Even the part where Harry killed him.





	1. What Is it with Amortentia and My Fathers

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is something I've been bouncing around for a while. If it gets some interest, I will continue it. Otherwise, I'll play it out for myself.

Thomas was a curious child since the moment he was born. The first thing he was curious about was the reason Hell would be filled with a baby’s wail. But then he realised that the wail was coming from him. Then Thomas noticed that _he_ was, in fact the baby. By then, he had stopped crying because ‘how undignified!’

The next thing Thomas was curious about turned out to be the man holding him in his arms. Handsome though said man was, Thomas was more attracted to the grass-green eyes and the distinctive scar on his forehead. ‘Harry Potter’, Thomas thought with, surprisingly little, ire. Most of what Thomas felt in Harry’s arms was warmth and comfort. The ire was certainly an aftertaste of being killed at the hand of this cooing, smiling young man. He was older than when Thomas had last seen him (in his past life), but still rather young. Then a woman interrupted their moment and Harry looked up in poorly veiled disgust.

With his baby-brain, Thomas could not quite understand what Harry or the Woman were talking about. Hopefully, there was something in there about feeding him. His poor little tummy was starting to hurt him. Just a smidge. Finally, Harry seemed to snarl something at the Woman before walking out the door. Thomas was so sad to see him go so angry. The Woman cooed at him and gave him a watery smile before pressing him to her breast. That worked well enough to distract Thomas from Harry’s sudden departure. His stomach was screaming bloody murder even though it was still only the size of a pea and only a drop of colostrum would be able to go in. Five minutes later, he was sated and drifting to sleep.

***

Over the years, Thomas managed to glean that Harry James Potter was, in fact, his father and the Woman was his mother. Her name was Gillian and she had dosed Harry with Amortentia when he had been on one of his auror-business-related missions. He had spent an unfortunate weekend with her and had impregnated her, before her guilty conscience had, rather rapidly, caught up with her and she had fed him the antidote. Upon realising what had been done to him, Harry had spat and cursed and cried, before running away. Months later, Gillian finally worked up the courage to send him an owl about the impending birth of their child. Harry had sent back a letter with a single line:

_Owl me when labour starts_

_-H._

As far as Thomas understood, Harry loved him as much as he hated Gillian. Which happened to be a lot. The young man could barely stand being in the same room as her without spitting or attempting to curse her to within an inch of her life. On the contrary, Harry could barely stand to be in a room with Thomas without picking him up in his arms and kissing him to within an inch of his life. Thomas was equal parts angered and happy that Harry treated him like that. Angered because this _was_ Harry Potter, his killer! Happy because, no matter how much he denied it, Thomas simply loved the fact that he had a father who loved him the most in this world. Where Tom Riddle Sr. had hated him on sight, Harry James Potter had loved him. No one made Thomas feel more loved than his father.

Perhaps the greatest problem in Thomas’ tiny world was that his father was rarely ever there. Even though his mother loved him greatly and treated him like a treasure gifted to her from the Gods themselves, Thomas could not help but constantly glance at the driveway of their small cottage, waiting for Harry’s flying motorcycle to land there. Gillian tried to distract him by teaching him all sorts of things, ranging from reading to piano.

Unfortunately, despite having a child’s body, Thomas retained all that he had known and learnt from his previous life. Tom Marvolo Riddle had learnt every piece of knowledge he could get his hands upon and Thomas had not forgotten any of it. Once his brain had developed enough, Thomas was reciting Gillian’s old potions textbook and, even making improvements upon the existing recipes. He’d even learnt how to play various instruments and Gillian’s pathetic skills at the piano paled in comparison to what he could do without her ‘instructions’. Hence, Thomas spent most of his time staring out the window and waiting for Harry.

For some reason, Thomas was not allowed outside the house. He’d once tried to go tree-climbing in the backyard. Of course, Thomas realised that it was unbecoming of him, but he desperately wanted to be more like Harry than his past self. Thomas firmly believed that that was the only way for him to ensure Harry’s love for him never waned. Thomas would make a Gryffindor out of himself, yet. He’d hardly made it through the front door before Gillian harshly pulled him back in and locked up behind them.

“You can’t go outside, Thomas,” she said, firmly. She cast a look outside, as if to make sure that no one had seen him. Then, she ushered him back to his playroom and summoned his toys in a circle around him. Thomas kicked the toys aside and went off to camp by his window, staring morosely at the trees. Harry would not love him very long if he never went on adventures. Thomas _had_ to have an adventure soon. Preferably before Harry’s next visit. Why could Gillian not understand? Then, Thomas remembered that most people were not even half as smart as he or Harry.

Thomas sulked all day, that day. He refused to eat lunch or dinner and, the next day, Harry was at his bedside, bright and early in the morning, peppering his tiny face with kisses. Thomas giggled and wrapped his arms around his father’s neck, sighing “Harry” as he nestled in the young man’s embrace.

“What’s wrong, buddy?” Harry asked, softly. Thomas cried into his father’s chest.

“Gillian won’t let me go outside!” he whined. “I wanted to climb a tree to have an adventure to tell you about when you came. But she won’t let me outside!”

Harry’s arms tightened around Thomas and the little boy felt himself being picked up and rushed down the stairs. Gillian tried to stay in the kitchen when Harry was around and that’s where they found her.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Harry hissed at her. “Why won’t you let my son out? Are you ashamed of him?”

“No!” she answered vehemently. “I’m not ashamed of him! I just- Harry. You moved us here so it’d be easier for you to see him. But… Just look at him, Harry. If he goes out, people will know. They’ll take one look at him and they’ll know he’s your son. What are you going to tell your neighbours then? What are you going to tell Ginny?!”

On that day, Thomas learned two things.

One, Harry was a married man and he had a legitimate family.

Two, Thomas was never allowed to go out because he was Harry’s dirty little secret.


	2. Meet the Potters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got inspired because of the comments. But don't expect this to happen regularly. I update according to inspiration. I'm never very regular. XD

Thomas tried to climb into the coffin to have a better look, but Harry grabbed him by the waist and gave him an unimpressed look.

“I was just trying to see if she was really dead,” he explained. “Sometimes, she just doesn’t wake up if you don’t do the right thing. You have to pat her face a few times for it to work.”

Harry’s heart hurt for his little boy. Gillian, no matter how hateful of a woman she was, had been Thomas’ mother. She had raised him and doted on him for five years now. And she was gone. Thomas was just a child and he didn’t seem to understand very much that she was dead. Harry had no idea how to explain it to him.

“Can I, at least, check her pulses to make sure you’re not wrong?” Thomas pleaded. Harry was, once again, amazed by the number of things that Thomas knew at his age. And, as Harry allowed him to touch Gillian’s body, the young man was stunned to see that Thomas was checking for pulse in all the right places, as if he had had practice with it.

“Well, she’s definitely dead,” Thomas concluded. “Rigor mortis, no pulse, no breathing. She’s as dead as a stone.” He jumped down from Harry’s arms and left the little church. Harry would have followed him, but the ceremony was starting. Instead, he sent Enya, Thomas’ new nanny, after him. She was only temporary. Until Harry could figure out what to say to Ginny. Who was currently glaring at him from the other side of the church.

When the funeral finally ended, Harry ran out the church to find Thomas, if only to get out of talking to Ginny just yet. He knew he was being irresponsible, but Harry wasn’t ready to face her yet.

Thomas was covered in dirt and grass when Harry finally found him. Enya was standing next to him, looking positively aggravated. If Harry had to guess, it had something to do with the mud stain on the front of her robes and Thomas’ demented cackling.  Harry broke into a smile and scooped Thomas up in a run around the graveyard. The little boy giggled and held on tight to his father. They ran around (Harry ran around), until Ginny showed up.

“We need to talk,” she stated, red hair flying in the wind. Thomas lifted Harry’s robe and went under to hold on to his pant leg. He was completely hidden from sight, except for the few strands of messy hair that peeked out of the opening in front.

“Ginny,” Harry started.

“Don’t hate Harry,” Thomas blurted out.

Harry froze and waited to see if Thomas would say anything else, but the boy simply peered at Ginny. She considered him for a moment.

“Is he yours?” she asked with tears in her eyes. Harry looked away in shame. Thomas pulled on his pant legs.

“It’s not your fault,” the little boy said. “Tell her. Communication solves everything.”

“It’s not that easy, Thomas,” Harry answered. Thomas pouted and rolled his eyes. He ran out of Harry’s robes, up to Ginny, and, very seriously, declared:

“Harry’s been raped. I’m a rape child. Don’t hate him!”

Then, he ran back into Harry’s robe and latched back onto his leg. Harry was dumbfounded and, from the look on her face, Ginny seemed to share the feeling.

“Harry, we _need_ to talk,” Ginny said after an eternity of silence. Harry nodded and picked up Thomas.

“I’ll- I’ll see you at home,” he said, before making his way to his motorcycle. He strapped Thomas up and secured him to the bike, heavy helmet, and all and took off. Ginny apparated away.

***

Thomas stared at his father’s wide back and sighed. It, likely, went unheard over the din of the motorcycle and he didn’t mind. He tightened his arms around the young man’s waist (well, ‘around’ is probably an exaggeration seeing as his little arms could barely reach about Harry’s hips) and enjoyed the final 30 minutes he would ever have where Harry would be all his.

“You know, Harry,” Thomas said when they finally landed in front of the Potter cottage. “After more than a decade, I really thought that you would have become smarter. But, somehow, for some reason that eludes me, you still have the maturity of when I last saw you before being born again.”

Harry frowned at him, probably confused at Thomas’ sudden tirade.

“I expected more from someone who bested me,” Thomas explained.

“I’m not sure I follow, Thomas,” Harry mumbled. Thomas sighed. It seemed that Harry was intent on playing ostrich with him.

“Let’s start there, then,” Thomas answered. “Why did you name me Thomas? I asked Gillian and she said that you chose the name. You know whose name that was, right?”

Harry bit his lip but did not answer. There seemed to be some amount of growing fear in his eyes. He swallowed and Thomas sighed again. This was going nowhere fast. Thomas hoped he wouldn’t have to spell things out for Harry. While the young man was certainly not stupid (he _was_ Thomas’ father after all), he certainly was rather dense. That, or he tended to escape reality when it became too hard to comprehend. Thomas would have to be very patient.

“You know where I’m going with this, Harry,” Thomas sort-of-taunted. “Why did you name me after Lord Voldemort?”

A sharp breath intake later, Harry settled on the ground, besides his motorcycle and beckoned Thomas to his lap. The little boy happily settled there and waited expectantly.

“I named you Thomas because I felt guilty,” Harry finally said. Thomas frowned. Of all the stupid-

“I never wanted to kill anyone,” Harry continued. “Not even Voldemort. I always thought that he only turned out the way he did because he had such a terrible childhood. His mother died, his father was a grade A asshole-”

“Daddy!” Thomas protested. Harry chuckled and continued.

“He never had any real friends. Everyone just used him for his power.” Harry looked at Thomas. “Don’t you feel sorry for him?” Thomas considered his father’s words for a while.

“But he killed your parents,” Thomas said in a small voice. “ _I_ killed your parents. I made you unhappy.”

“Thomas,” Harry said, quietly. “Will you forgive me if I keep pretending I don’t understand what you’re talking about?”

“Yeah,” Thomas answered, equally as quiet. “I understand.” He turned around and nuzzled in his father’s robes. They sat in silence for a while until the lights of the cottage turned on. At that point, Harry was no longer able to put things off to later.

“Let’s go meet your siblings, shan’t we?”

***

Ginny stared at them through the window. She’d heard them the moment they’d landed in the front yard and so had the children. James, Albus and Lily had wanted to run out to their father, but Ginny had prevented them from doing so. Harry and Thomas could probably use all the time they could get to get ready for what was coming up next.

Ginny had no idea what to do with the information that Thomas had sprung on her. Harry had been raped and, for near six years, he had kept the fact hidden form her. Why? Did he really think she was so petty that she would have left him over something that was no fault of his? She could not begin to fathom what must have been going through his mind when he decided to keep that to himself. It certainly explained why he had suddenly become so skittish in the bedroom for a few months after Lily’s birth. Ginny had passed it off as nerves or worry about her well-being. She’d never even considered trauma and now, she felt foolish for not noticing the signs.

As the sun went down and it got darker and darker in the house, Ginny went to turn the lights on. When she came back to the window, Harry was crouching in front of Thomas and dusting off his robes. A quick spell over the boy’s robes had him free of mud and grass. Harry attempted to flatten the mop on Thomas’ head and Ginny chuckled. The little boy had inherited the infamous Potter hair. Ginny knew, from her attempts with James, that Harry could spend all night in the driveway and that hair would never sit straight. Harry should know this by now. That _was_ his hair that Thomas had inherited.

Actually, Thomas seemed to have inherited everything from Harry. While the other Potter children were an even mix between Ginny and Harry, Thomas was a miniature replica of Harry. If people saw him without context, they might think that Harry had been mistakenly fed a de-aging potion and was now walking around in a child’s body.

When it became clear that Harry was not going to give up until success was achieved, Ginny opened the front door and walked up to the pair.

“That’s enough,” she said, grabbing Harry’s wrist. “It’s never gonna happen. Let’s go in, Thomas. You must be starving.” Thomas took the proffered hand and followed Ginny into the house. He stopped at the threshold and stared at Harry until the man got up and followed them inside. James, Albus and, Lily poked their heads around the living room door and took in the sight of Thomas.

“It’s a little Daddy,” Lily said, confused.

“It’s a boy!” James said, excitedly. Albus grinned in agreement. They took Thomas by the arms and dragged him to the dining room. They pushed their chairs apart and dragged another one to sit Thomas between themselves.

“We’ll talk,” Ginny said. “When you’re ready.”

Harry sent her a grateful smile and followed his children into the dining room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it!


	3. Born of Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never imagined that this story would get such a response. I'm very grateful. Here's another chapter as thanks. :)

Thomas’ favourite sibling was Lily. But don’t tell James. Thomas thought that it had something to do with the fact that Lily was the closest in age to him and that James and Albus had a sort of connection that Lily had been unable to intrude on. No matter. She could have that sort of connection with Thomas. In a matter of days, the two had managed to become as thick as thieves and had ended up causing about as much mischief as their elder brothers.

In particular, their main target seemed to be Harry. Whenever the young man was home, Thomas and Lily would find a reason to constantly be around him. It got to a point where they had even grown so bold that they once followed him into the washroom. Needless to say, Harry had gently but firmly booted them out with the promise of punishment if ever this were to happen again. Of course, the terrible twosome had waited right outside the door for Harry to be done. Thomas considered it to be Harry’s just deserts for killing him in his past life. Lily just liked being around Harry.

Thomas seemed to fit right in with the Potters and life seemed to go on in an idyllic fashion until an overexcited pidgeon of a middle-aged owl came bursting through their window. Thomas almost had a heart attack when the thing just went right through the window as if it hadn’t been there in the first place.

“Pig doesn’t seem to understand how windows work anymore,” Ginny explained. “So, we charmed all the windows in the house to just let him, specifically, through.”

“Why would you name an owl ‘Pig’?” Thomas asked, confused. The owl zipped around his head. At least, it attempted to zip. It flew in circles around his head, rather fast for an owl its age, but seemed to be constantly hitting imaginary potholes in the air. “Somebody ought to check its engine,” Thomas pointed out. Ginny chuckled and ruffled Thomas’ hair before taking the letter from the aged owl. The little boy crawled into her lap to see what it was about.

“Well,” Ginny said. “It seems we’ve been invited to yet another Weasley family reunion.”

“You should call to arrange a babysitter for that day, immediately,” Thomas told her, sagely. “You don’t want to leave things last minute. I know, from experience with Gillian, that babysitters become a rare commodity when you need them the most.”

“Why would I need a babysitter?” Ginny asked, perplexed. “The invitation is for the whole family. My parents probably want to see their grandkids too.”

“Well, you can’t very well leave me alone,” Thomas answered. “I’m not sure how things work but I’m pretty sure it’s not legal to leave a little boy my age alone and unsupervised.”

“Oh, Thomas,” Ginny sighed. “Why would you think that I wouldn’t take you with us? You’re part of our family too.”

“Yes, but I’m illegitimate,” Thomas reasoned. “We should keep me hidden as much as possible to avoid any uncomfortable situations. How do you expect to explain me to your parents?”

“Thomas,” Ginny said. “These things are for adults to worry about. You don’t need to concern yourself with this. Harry and I are your parents and we’ll take care of all the hard things. You just worry about what you’d rather have as an afternoon snack: chocolate frogs or, the riskier Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans?”

“Bertie Bott’s,” Thomas answered. “I’m feeling like an adventure today!” Ginny smiled and kissed his forehead.

“Now, run along and go find out what your siblings are up to,” she said. Thomas did just that and if a single tear escaped his carefully constructed façade, well… no one really needed to know.

***

“Harry,” Ginny said, that night as they were getting ready for bed. “We need to talk about Thomas.” Harry froze and slowly turned to face her.

“What about him?” he asked, apprehensively. “Is he misbehaving? Does he not get along with you?”

“No!” Ginny immediately reassured him. “No, of course not. Thomas is an angel and he’s very mature for his age. He’s precocious but he’s a precious child. That’s not what I wanted to talk about.”

“Then, what’s wrong?” Harry asked, frowning.

“Today, I received a letter,” Ginny started. “From Ron. It was an invitation to a Weasley family reunion this coming Saturday and when I told Thomas, he immediately told me to get a babysitter.”

“Why?” Harry asked, even more confused. “Did you not want to take the children this time around?”

“No, and that’s what I thought he meant to when he first suggested it,” Ginny answered. “But when I questioned him further… Well- I don’t know how to explain this… But… Erm, how do I say this? Harry, Thomas seems to think that he’s some sort of terrible secret that would put you in uncomfortable positions if his existence were to come out. I’m worried about him.”

Harry’s face seemed to shut down for a moment but, in the next, an expression of pure fury took over. It was enough to frighten Ginny and she wondered what she may have said that was so wrong.

“It’s all the fault of that stupid bitch!” Harry ranted. “Even dead, she won’t leave my baby alone. She must’ve convinced that he would ruin my life. That’s what happened. I just know it. Do you know what she told me when I asked her why she wouldn’t let him go outside? ‘What would you tell the neighbours? What would you say to Ginny?’ I almost smacked her right there. The only reason I didn’t was because Thomas was sitting right there. I wish I could bring her back to life just to throttle her to death. I fucking hate her!”

“Honey, calm down,” Ginny whispered, harshly. “You’ll wake the children up.”

“Sorry,” Harry whispered back, dejectedly. “It’s just- I should’ve never left him with her. I should’ve trusted that you wouldn’t hold it against me. If I hadn’t been so stupid, Thomas wouldn’t be saying things like that. I’m a horrible father.”

“That you are,” Ginny said, amused. Harry made a pained whimper. “You’re a rather terrible dad. I mean, what kind of father has a favourite child. Tut, tut, Harry. That’s not good parenting at all.”

“I don’t have a favourite child,” Harry protested.

“It’s okay, Harry,” Ginny reassured him. “I don’t hold it against you. Thomas probably needs all the extra love and affection he can get. That woman has terribly wounded him and he must be starving for your affection. And, it’s not like you don’t love your other kids just as much. You just tend to favour Thomas a tiny, wee bit more.”

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” Harry asked. Ginny smiled.

“You could stand to it more,” she answered cheekily. “And while you’re at it, compliment my beauty too. You could do that more often too.”

“Oh, dear,” Harry said, a hand on his eyes as if shielding himself from a glaring light. “What country did I save for me to earn the favour of the Sun, herself. O, beauty amongst beauties, how you grace this humble man.” Ginny laughed and kissed him. She lay her head on his chest.

“Don’t worry, Harry,” she mumbled against his shirt. “We’ll do right by that boy. We’ll undo all the damage that woman did to him.”

“Yeah,” he answered, tightening his arms around her. “We will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know how you like it so far. I know the chapters are short, but I don't have a good attention span. This is better for me.


	4. A Brief Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've gotten this question a few times and I decided it would be wiser to answer here. The reason why Thomas acts so un-Voldemort-like is simply because he is NOT Voldemort. He is Thomas Potter who, unfortunately, has all the memories of his past life. As a child, he does not understand the complicated emotions and experiences that Voldemort had as an adult and is, therefore, more open to Harry's worldview and more likely to accept his father's approach to life than Voldemort's. He retains all of Voldemort's knowledge but his personality is mostly shaped by Harry and his surroundings. Unlike Voldemort, Thomas has a capacity for love. And that is why he is able to act so nicely to everyone around him. Harry is first but that does not mean others are unimportant to him.

As it turned out, with Ron and Hermione’s help, the Weasleys were rather easy to convince to accept Thomas. They hardly asked anything about Thomas’ mother, trusting that Harry would never willingly betray Ginny like that. Not for the first time in his life, Harry was overwhelmed with gratitude for this family that loved and trusted him boundlessly. He would, forever, be thankful that Ginny had married him and made him a permanent part of their clan.

The rest of the wizarding world was less forthcoming. As soon as Thomas’ existence came out, all sorts of theories about Harry’s betrayal were formed. Harry, unwilling celebrity that he was, found he was quite hard pressed to protect his little family from the neighbours’ scathing remarks. Many looked at Ginny, James, Albus, and Lily in poorly veiled pity. Those same looks turned to thinly veiled disgust when trained on Thomas. As if the little boy had any hand in being born. Even if he had been a product of Harry’s illicit affairs, Thomas was still just a child. He had never asked to be born, much less to a married man whose wife happened to not be his mother.

The Potters eventually learned to live with the looks and harsh whispers and life went on. Eventually, the children started to go to Hogwarts, one after the other. Finally, the day came when Thomas was ready to follow his siblings to Hogwarts.

Harry held his little hand while Ginny went ahead to make sure James, Albus, and Lily had everything. The elder Potter siblings were all used to this by now but they still, somehow, managed to forget random things. James had once written back home to ask if anyone had seen his quidditch goggles. Albus was constantly writing home for this or that pen, even though he had a box-full of them, because he needed that specific pen for this specific homework (Neither Harry nor Ginny had ever understood the logic behind that one). Lily was, generally, more put together and never wrote to ask for something, but Ginny had once noticed the girl’s sneakoscope lying under one of her beside tables and sent it with Errol-Second-of-The-Name.

“Are you ready for this?” Harry asked Thomas. The little boy looked rather nervous.

“What if it puts me into Slytherin, again?” Thomas asked back. Harry pretended not to hear the ‘again’. Thomas constantly dropped hints nowadays and Harry had gotten expert at pretending he did not hear them. If there had ever been any doubt that he was related to and raised by the Dursleys, all such suspicions were now long gone. Harry was even better than them at pretending that abnormal things did not exist if he didn’t think about them.

“Albus is in Slytherin. You’ll be fine,” Harry answered.

“But I want to be a Gryffindor. Like you.” Thomas said quietly. Harry almost didn’t hear it over the din of platform 9 ¾. “I don’t want to be _that_ again.”

“You won’t become a Dark Lord just from going into Slytherin,” Harry told the boy. “Do you think _Albus_ , of all people, is ever going to be the next Voldemort?” Thomas scoffed.

“You’re right, I guess,” Thomas said.

***

As it turned out, Thomas was _not_ sorted into Slytherin. He was not sorted into Gryffindor either, which was a huge disappointment but, as the Hat reasoned, ‘ _Ravenclaw would be more helpful to one with your goals’_. Thomas assumed it was referring to his desire to become an Unspeakable in order to research the mechanics of reincarnation.

The first few years at Hogwarts went by uneventfully for Thomas. About the most interesting thing that happened was that James accidently knocked his girlfriend up and was given the news one week before he was supposed to take his OWLs. Thomas had laughed his ass off when James had told them and Albus had choked on his pumpkin juice. Thomas had half-hoped for a spit-take. Lily had been torn between joining Thomas in his mirth or whacking James repeatedly until he was a sobbing mess (she went with the latter).

“Now, what?” James asked when they finally settled down.

“Maybe Tom can speak to dad,” Albus suggested. “Smooth things over.”

“Yes!” James said, hopeful. “Please, Tom. You’re Dad’s favourite. He’ll listen to you. Pleeeeeeaaase.”

“Urgh!” Thomas rolled his eyes. He’d always been weak to James’ puppy dog eyes. “Fine. Whatever. But you owe me one.”

“Dad won’t be pleased,” Lily pointed out. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to hide behind Tom. Merlin’s sake, you’re a Gryffindor, James. Where’s all your courage, you wimp.”

“Hey!” James protested. “I’m not a wimp. You’ve just never seen Dad angry. You wouldn’t have, being his little princess and all. I’m not a wimp for not wanting to face him. I’m merely calculating my odds of survival and they seem higher if Tom soothes him before I have to face him.”

“O, Morgana!” Thomas exclaimed. “The way you’re talking, you’d think that Harry is a monster just waiting for you to make a mistake so he can chomp your head off!”

Thomas had a feeling that James, sometimes, suspected Harry of just that. He eventually convinced the eldest Potter boy to just wait until the OWLs were done. Those were the most pressing matter. The baby would still be there after the exams were done. Thomas had a letter ready to be sent the moment all of them were done with their finals. No point in killing themselves over it.

After the exams, Thomas sent the letter and all hell broke loose. On the day before they left Hogwarts for home, Errol II flew into the Great Hall at breakfast. He was carrying a red envelope and Thomas found it wise for him to duck under Ravenclaw’s table. A few feet away, Albus had gotten the same idea and they grinned at each other from across the Hall, just waiting for it.

“JAMES SIRIUS POTTER!” it said in Harry’s voice. “YOU MERLIN-DAMNED IMBECILE! HAVE YOU NEVER HEARD OF CONDOMS?! ARE THEY A FOREIGN CONCEPT?! BECAUSE I CLEARLY REMEMBER GIVING YOU _THAT_ TALK! WHAT THE BLOODY HELL WERE YOU THINKING?! JUST WAIT TILL YOU GET HOME. YOU’LL FIND OUT EXACTLY HOW UNPLEASANT I CAN BE. AND AS FOR _YOU_ THOMAS!” Thomas’ eyes widened. Why was _he_ being included in this howler? _He_ hadn’t done anything wrong.

“THIS IS THE _LAST_ BLOODY TIME YOU TRY TO MANIPULATE _ME_ INTO ANYTHING. WE’LL TALK ABOUT THIS WHEN YOU GET HOME. YOU’RE _BOTH_ IN A _WORLD_ OF TROUBLE!”

Then the howler disintegrated and Lily keeled off her chair at Gryffindor table in raucous laughter. The rest of the table was mostly dazed and whispering about condoms. Across the Hall, Scorpius Malfoy had joined Albus under Slytherin table in silent laughter.

Over the break, Thomas was made to help Grandma Weasley de-gnome her garden and attempt to make Grimauld Place into a livable home (it didn’t happen for the past two decades. It’s never gonna happen grandma!). Harry and Ginny had a talk with James, his girlfriend, and her parents, and it had eventually been decided that the child would be given up for adoption as neither James nor the girl were fit for parenting. James’ punishment turned out to be following dad to work and acting as a gopher of sorts for the whole Auror Department, ferrying documents to and fro or delivering coffee to this or that person (no magic allowed!).

So, yes. Until about fourth year, that had been the most interesting thing that had happened to Thomas while he was at Hogwarts.

And then fourth year started.

And Hyperion Nott smiled at Thomas. Thomas smiled back.

Worst. Decision. Ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was mostly a filler. Things will start to pick up next chapter as Hyperion Nott is introduced.


	5. The Hyperion Nott Incident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoot me now.

In retrospect, Thomas should’ve known, the moment he set his eyes on the boy, that Hyperion Nott was trouble in a pretty package. But Thomas was an impressionable fourteen-year-old and Hyperion had hair that looked like spun sunlight tied in a bun (man-bun, according to Lily) and eyes that twinkled with boyish mischief. Voldemort had had a lot of encounters with Hyperion’s ilk and memories surfaced in Thomas’ mind of all sorts of fuck-boy sorts of guys. Unfortunately, Thomas had taken to ignoring any and all advice his Voldemort memories came up with these days. One could hardly blame him as the most frequent advice they gave seemed to be “Murder Harry!”

As such, Thomas’ naïve thoughts turned into a full-blown romantic relationship with Hyperion Nott. He was handsome and his laughter seemed to cloud Thomas’ reasoning. Their first kiss was on the shore of the Black Lake, under moonlight, past curfew. Thomas melted into it, all the while ignoring the way Voldemort’s memories kept comparing this situation with Tom Riddle’s encounter with a certain Abraxas Malfoy who, as it turned out, had had a girlfriend when he had taken Tom to bed. Needless to say, Tom Riddle had taken the then-Malfoy scion to task and had made sure that sex, for Malfoy, would never feel quite the same. Thomas cringed at the memory of what had been done to Malfoy and Hyperion looked at him, questioningly. Thomas waved it away and the two went back to snogging.

Trouble happened when Thomas brought Hyperion back home over Christmas break, the next year. The boy’s eyes had widened the moment he’d set eyes on Harry but Thomas assumed that it only had to do with the fact that the older man was the saviour of the wizarding world. Ginny frowned at Hyperion but said nothing and Harry, dense as he was, noticed nothing out of place. James and his new girlfriend, Eileen Davies, joined them later and Thomas’ older brother gave Hyperion the same curious look as Ginny. It wasn’t until Lily, Albus, and Scorpius all did the same that Thomas really bothered to wonder what in the world was actually going on.

One afternoon, while Hyperion and Harry were out to get groceries, Thomas finally decided to confront his family about the strange stares and, recently, half-glares that they had been giving his boyfriend ever since they had gotten to the Potter Cottage. Ginny sat him down and took one of his hands in both of hers.

“Honey,” she said. “I know you really like this boy and I want to say that I might be wrong. But… We’ve all been noticing something recently and… I’m not sure how to say this…This Hyperion boy…”

“Oh, come off it!” James said, suddenly. He sounded angry and near ready to flip the kitchen table they were sitting around. “He’s looking at Dad all wrong!”

“I… er, am not sure I quite understand,” he said, confused.

“Tom,” Lily said, trying to be comforting. “He looks at dad the way he should be looking at, well, _you_.”

Thomas’ brain shut down at those words. He tried to process them, really. But he couldn’t quite get his head around the concept. It sounded like they were saying that Hyperion was lusting after Harry. But that couldn’t be. Harry was handsome still, but he was a middle-aged man with four teenagers, one of which was Hyperion’s age.

The Voldemort-y part of his brain began to gleefully supply Thomas with all those instances where the boy had felt that Hyperion’s way of looking at Harry had seemed off. It, even more gleefully, began comparing the looks to the kind of looks that Tom Riddle had received from boys and girls, throughout his seven years at Hogwarts.

Hyperion and Harry, rather conveniently, chose that very moment to come back. Hyperion was laughing at something Harry had said and Thomas felt his gut churning, because he finally reconciled what he saw in Hyperion’s eyes with Voldemort’s memories and Thomas broke into a sob. He ran up the stairs, Hyperion shouting after him, demanding to know what happened. Thomas came down fifteen minutes later and tossed Hyperion’s luggage at him.

“Get out,” he hissed. “We’re done! Don’t show me your face again!”

“What?” Hyperion asked, bewildered. “What’d I do?”

“He’s my father you disgusting, rotten bastard!” Thomas screamed. Hyperion looked taken aback. He blushed and looked away.

“It’s not like I can control these things,” he answered in a small voice.

“Thomas,” Harry interrupted. “Maybe you’re overreacting.”

“ _Maybe,_ ” Thomas said, venomously, “ _you_ should stay out of this! This is all happening because of _you_.” Harry looked taken aback and the Thomas-y part of his brain was horrified at what he had just said. But, for some reason, right now it was the rule of the Voldemort-y part of his brain.

“You can _both_ just go fuck off!” he screamed before running up to his room and locking himself in.

***

“What is _wrong_ with you, Harry?” Ginny asked after Hyperion had left.

“What’d I do?” he asked back, an eyebrow raised in confusion. Ginny rolled her eyes and sighed.

“Why, in Morgana's wrinkly arse, would you tell Thomas that he was overreacting?” she said, slightly distressed.

“But he was, wasn’t he?” Harry said. “It was rather unreasonable to get angry at Hyperion for something this silly. Poor boy probably only felt that way about me because Thomas and I look so alike.”

“ _Of course_ , that’s what was going on, Harry,” Ginny told him. “But that still doesn’t make it okay for you to tell Thomas he’s overreacting. He’s a teenager. He’s full of hormones, you bloody idiot! You don’t tell your teenage son that he bloody overreacted!”

“Then why, in Merlin’s saggy pants, did you tell him about his boyfriend making googly eyes at me?” Harry hissed.

“Because!” Ginny said, exasperated. “I’ve heard terrible things about that Nott boy from Albus and Scorpius. Just imagine what would’ve happened if Tom had found out about his boyfriend’s wandering eyes at Hogwarts. We can’t be there for him at Hogwarts. We can’t comfort him there. At least here, we can control the situation and take care of him.”

“Oh, for _fuck’s_ sake, Ginny” Harry spat. “You can’t coddle him for the rest of his life. You won’t be there at every single point of his life. He’ll get hurt eventually and you won’t be there to help him. You need to let him learn how to deal with his own problems while we’re still here to act as a safety net. One day, whether you like it or not, we’ll die! What then?”

Ginny let out a frustrated shriek and left the room.

Harry sighed and trudged up the stairs to Thomas’ room. He knocked on the boy’s door.

“Go away,” came the muffled reply. “I never want to see you again. Hate you.”

“Is that so?” Harry whispered against the door.

Thomas avoided everyone for the rest of the break. He only came out of his room to eat before promptly disappearing back into his room. Albus tried camping in front of his door for a few days to see if he could catch his younger brother unprepared and try to talk some sense into him. It constantly failed because Thomas had become so apathetic. James would have broken the door in after the first full day if Lily hadn’t hit him for even considering the idea. Every day Thomas spent alone, in his room, Ginny grew more restless.

Harry was the only one who seemed unaffected. He went about his routine as usual and never tried to speak to Thomas again after that first night. Eventually, the day came for Albus, Lily, and Thomas to go back to Hogwarts. Thomas still refused to speak to anyone on that day and, while Albus and Lily said proper goodbyes to their parents, Thomas merely cast a vaguely betrayed look in Harry’s direction and boarded the Hogwarts’ Express.

Had the ‘Hyperion Incident’ ended there, the whole story would have eventually been buried in the Potters’ history and never been spoken of again. Unfortunately, the Potters had never and would never be that lucky. Especially since one of them had been Lord Voldemort in a previous life.

One day, in late March of that school year, none of the three Potter children showed up for breakfast in the Great Hall. The reason was soon revealed as subscribing students received their copies of the  _Daily Prophet_.

**_Boy-Who-Lived Found Dead In Forbidden Forest_ **

**_Wizarding World in Mourning_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a "murdering Harry" kind of author. I tend to kill him off whenever I can. I'd apologise but I'm really not sorry. I might be, subconsciously, a Voldemort sympathiser. XD  
> Don't be afraid to leave comments below. I only moderate to catch comments that could hurt others' feelings. I usually just approve all comments, criticism included. As long as you're being respectful.


	6. Panic And Terror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing the twins, Phobos and Deimos. This my attempt to mysteriously answer your questions from the previous chapter. Tell me what your assumptions are in the comments below. I sometimes get ideas from there. But, mostly, I just roll my way. XD It's still fun to read your theories though.

Phobos was in pain. All-consuming, thought-obliviating pain. Everything hurt and even the slightest twitch caused intolerable suffering. Phobos wanted to scream, laugh, cry. Anything, really. The only thing he _could_ do was lie there and wait for the pain to subside. After what felt like days, he was finally able to open his eyes. He wished the ability had been denied to him.

Phobos was lying in the dirt and, directly above him, a man floated, limbs akimbo. Although that, in itself, was already cause for alarm, what really struck fear in Phobos’ heart was the gaping hole through the man’s chest. It was there, like a monster’s open maw, dripping blood onto Phobos’ face and body. Phobos was still too hurt to scream, but he would have if he could. He was _so_ scared but his only ability, as of that moment, was to cry tears that felt like broken glass being dragged against his raw skin.

 _Everything_ hurt and Phobos could do nothing but wait and hope for the best.

***

Firenze never really came to this side of the Forbidden Forest. It had an ominous aura, even more so than the rest of the Forest. However, for some unknown reason, the centaur was drawn to that area on that particular day. What he found there only served to confirm his opinion about that side of the Forest.

A human foal lay, bloody under the floating body of a male human adult. Tear tracks were visible in the blood on the foal’s fear-stricken face. It was looking up at the adult and, if Firenze had to guess, was unable to move and leave the area. Firenze had no doubt that, were the foal capable of movement, it would have run away as far as possible, without circling the Earth back to this very point.

Firenze cautiously drew closer to the pair and was attacked by the stench of the dead rolling off the human adult. He was dead.

And Firenze knew him.

***

Neville Longbottom honestly believed that nothing could really surprise him anymore. After going through the second British Wizarding War and killing Nagini right under Voldemort’s… well, nose, Neville thought he’d seen it all. Clearly, he was mistaken.

Neville was heading towards the Hogwarts greenhouses when Firenze galloped out of the Forbidden Forest, a bloody boy in his arms. He could feel the colour draining from his own face as the centaur drew closer and closer. Firenze gave him no time for questions and galloped right past him, towards Hogwarts castle. Neville chased after the centaur but lost him somewhere in the maze that was the school. However, judging from the direction Firenze had been headed in and the boy’s state, Neville was able to make the educated guess that they were likely in the Hospital Wing. Instead of going straight there, Neville took a detour by Headmistress McGonagall’s office and, together, the two made their way to the Wing. Firenze had put the boy in an empty bed and was now watching as Hannah worked over him.

“Is it bad?” Neville asked his wife. She looked at him and shook her head.

“Not really,” she said. “He was in a lot of pain but that was easily healed with a Pain-relief potion. The blood isn’t his. I’ve cleaned him up and he has no open wound. The potion knocked him out, though. He won’t be up until tomorrow morning.” McGonagall frowned and turned to Firenze.

“Please, explain Firenze,” she asked.

“There’s a part of the Forbidden Forest that everyone avoids,” he said. “Even the vilest of creatures living in the Forest stay away. Centaurs, especially, give it a wide berth. Today, I felt inexplicably drawn to it. That’s where I found them. The foal was crying. It couldn’t move. I thought that, at the very least, I would try to save it.”

“Them?” Neville questioned. Firenze looked away and sighed.

“He wasn’t alone,” the centaur answered.

“Well, speak centaur!” McGonagall said, exasperated.

“There was a human adult with him,” Firenze said. “Dead.”

“Oh dear,” Hannah whispered, blanching.

“It gets worse,” Firenze assured her. “Green eyes and lightning scar. As far as I know, there’s only one of you like that.” Neville ran and retched into the closest vessel and McGonagall sat down on the bed as her legs gave way. Hannah let out a choked sob.

“The Potter children,” McGonagall said, distraught. “They must be told.”

“I’ll-I’ll do it,” Neville mumbled, still looking green.

“Then, I’ll notify the Aurors,” McGonagall said, quietly.

***

Deimos ran through the halls of St-Mungo, trying to figure out where the _fuck_ the bloody Mental Maladies Ward was. Bloody receptionist could not be bothered to give him any proper directions. Beneath his shirt, Menelaus, his snake familiar, hissed in discomfort. He eventually found the Merlin-damned ward in one of St-Mungo’s sub-levels and, _fuck,_ but it looked like those cartoonishly sinister renditions of Mental Asylums in muggle horror movies.

Deimos wanted to curse whoever bloody ran this Merlin-forsaken hospital. Phobos was here. Deimos’ fragile little brother was being sequestered like a bloody criminal in one of these electric-chair-era rooms. Deimos eventually spotted a door that was being guarded by two men in Auror robes. He came to a stop in front of the men and one of them sneered at him.

“What do you want, kid?”, the sneering one asked.

“I’m looking for my brother,” Deimos answered. “My twin. His name is Phobos. He looks exactly like me except he has white hair instead of black and blue eyes instead of purple. Have you seen him?” The Auror on the left peered at Deimos for a moment before coming to a conclusion.

“He’s in there,” the man said, pointing to the room behind him. “But I’ll have to contact my supervisor to see if you’re allowed to see that boy, first. Can you stay here with Auror Jordan, until I come back?” Urgh. Auror Jordan was the one who had sneered at him. Deimos sighed and nodded.

“Of course,” he agreed. “Bureaucracy sucks but I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble on my account.” The Auror smiled a small, sad smile at him and left him with Auror Jordan. Deimos wanted to hold him back and tell him to send the surly Auror instead, but curbed himself. Auror Jordan gave Deimos a once-over, huffed, and looked away. They waited in silence until the other Auror, whose name Deimos still did not know, came back.

“I’ve talked to my superior,” the young man said. “You’re gonna have to wait until she gets here, before you’re allowed in.” Deimos pinched his lips together. _So close_ , he thought. Phobos was just on the other side of the door. Nevertheless, he sighed and nodded again.

“You never told me your name,” Deimos said as he settled on the floor opposite the Aurors to wait for their superior.

“Teddy,” the Auror replied. “Teddy Lupin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you think of Phobos and Deimos? This chapter is named for them, just in case you did not know. Phobos (Panic/Fear) and Deimos (Terror/Dread) are sons of Ares, Greek God of War.


	7. Is That So?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I challenge climate change deniers to come to Canada right now and tell me to my face that climate change is a myth! It's bloody September and I'm wearing shorts! This is not normal. Canada used to have two seasons: Cold and My-face-might-fall-off-Winter.  
> On a happier note, please enjoy and don't forget to comment, respectfully as always.

The new Head of the DMLE was a sweet-faced, beautiful woman. She seemed like the kind that would Stun you and immediately apologise afterwards. And, at one time, she had been exactly like that. But the years had not been kind to Parvati Patil and Teddy watched her draw close with a dull sense of dread. He’d worked under her command while she was still Harry’s Deputy Head of the DMLE and Teddy saw her as a woman who got things done, by hook or by crook. She remained within the bounds of the law, but let it never be said that Parvati Patil was anything but a force of a nature.

The boy, Deimos, remained on the floor as she walked up to Teddy and his partner. Teddy wanted to grab him by the arm and stand him up at attention for Auror Patil, but refrained since Deimos was a civilian and was not duty-bound to be respectful towards her.

“His name is Phobos, you said?” she asked the boy. Deimos had to crane his neck up to talk to her and Teddy wished he would just stand up. That sort of position just did not seem good for the kid’s neck.

“Yeah,” he answered. “My little brother. He didn’t tell you?” Auror Patil shook her head and Teddy thought back to when he last saw that boy. Phobos. There was no way that kid was saying anything to anyone.

“No,” Auror Patil answered, slowly. “He hasn’t been very cooperative. You’ll see in a minute. Lupin, open the door.”

Teddy jumped at the sound of his name and went to retrieve a large, brass key from one of his inner pockets. Not for the first time, he wondered why everything on this ward was such a caricature of the worst sort of muggle movies. He opened the door and peeked inside. The boy was nowhere to be seen. But he could be hidden behind the door. He went in and looked around. Nothing.

The cell was empty. _Fuck._ And on the wall:

_HATE YOU_

Painted in blood.

***

Phobos was back in the forest. He had no idea how he had gotten there. He was barefoot and bleeding down one arm. He needed to find help quickly, before he bled to death. He had no idea where he should be headed, but forests had to end somewhere and, so, he picked a random direction and ran. Phobos was certain that, with a wound like this, he should have fainted ages ago. Yet, he was still very much alert.

Finally, after what felt like hours, lights appeared in the distance. The white-haired boy ran at top speed and broke out of the forest. A large castle was standing in front of him. He doubled in effort and ran up to a pair of large and heavy-looking carved wooden doors. He pushed them open and walked to another set of large wooden doors. What was it with this bloody castle and Merlin-damned heavy wooden doors? As if Phobos wasn’t tired enough, as it was. Summoning the last of his energy, Phobos pushed those large wooden doors. He was greeted by the sight of hundreds of people chattering and eating away, together.

At this point, Phobos was at the end of his will. He collapsed onto the floor and barely had the time to notice a black-haired, green-eyed boy running towards him, before fainting.

***

The Potter children had come back to school just in time for Finals Week. All three remained subdued and seemed to be constantly on the verge of crying in their soups.

Thomas sat, silently, at Ravenclaw table and pushed his mashed potatoes around, as if hoping for them to suddenly decide, on their own, to jump into his stomach and spare him the need to try and eat them. Harry was dead. Gone. He was never coming back. Thomas could feel the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. His last words to Harry had been “Hate you”. What if Harry had died really believing that? The thought set Thomas’ heart on fire. He hadn’t meant it. He’d only been slightly angry that Harry wouldn’t take his side.

Thomas was still playing with his food when the Great Hall doors opened with an ominous creek. As their eyes met, Thomas’ blood went cold in his veins. The boy had white hair and blue eyes, but other than that, he was an exact copy of a teenage Tom Riddle.

The boy was bleeding out of his left arm and looked pale. Thomas seemed to be the first to snap out of the general shock blanketing the Great Hall and it was just as well, because the moment he got up, the boy started falling and, by the time Thomas got to him, he had fainted. Professor Longbottom was the next to get to them and he swore, rather colourfully, at the sight of the boy. He picked the boy up and threw him over a shoulder before, presumably, running off to the infirmary. Thomas ran after him.

“What are you doing, Potter?” Professor Longbottom huffed out.

“I need to tell you something,” Thomas answered, a little out of breath, himself.

“Well?” the professor prompted, never breaking stride. “Do tell. The suspense isn’t good for my heart.”

“He looks like Tom Riddle,” Thomas blurted out.

“Who?” Professor Longbottom asked, confused.

“Voldemort!” Thomas shouted. Professor Longbottom had always been a clumsy man, prone to slapstick routines and he didn’t disappoint. The man skidded to a stop and fell back, the white-haired stranger landing in a heap on top of him. Thomas would have laughed if the situation was any less serious. The professor peered up at Thomas.

“How do you know?”, he asked finally. He picked the boy back up before running again. “Walk and talk.”

“My dad,” Thomas said by way of explanation. It seemed to be enough for Professor Longbottom.

“Again?” Madame Longbottom asked when they entered the Hospital Wing. Thomas raised an eye-brow but said nothing as she worked over the boy.

“What does she mean ‘again’?” Thomas asked.

“He was here,” Professor Longbottom answered. “A while back.On the day your dad…”

“Oh,” Thomas said. The pain came crashing back in waves and Thomas turned to the boy.

***

The next time Phobos opened his eyes, his arm no longer hurt. A blond woman was staring down at him, a timid-looking man peering over her shoulder. Both were pushed aside, rather rudely, by the green-eyed boy Phobos had seen before fainting. The boy pointed a wand at his neck, threateningly. He was frowning something terrible. Phobos had no doubt his life was currently in mortal danger but there was something more pressing he had to attend. His mind was playing a sentence on a loop, as if it were some broken record.

_Hate you. Hate you. Hate you. Hate you._

“Mr. Potter, you’d best not be trying to hurt him,” the blond woman warned. The boy, Mr. Potter, looked up at her with a sneer.

“He’s related to Voldemort, somehow,” he spat. Phobos’ eyes widened. No one was supposed to know that. The woman shared in his shock, although Phobos doubted it was for the same reasons. The boy turned back to him, scowling. “You’d best be clearing this up _before_ I blow your throat clean off.”

“Grandfather!” Phobos screeched. “He was my grandfather. Now get this thing away from me.”

“Delphini had children?” the boy asked, confused. “But how is that possible? Even if that _were_ true, you shouldn’t be this old already!”

“How do you know my mother’s name?” Phobos asked, wary. The boy simply pressed his wand further into Phobos’ neck. The tip felt hot against his neck and he wouldn’t be surprised if he came out of this whole situation with a mark upon his skin in that spot.

“How are you this old, already?” he questioned, instead of answering Phobos.

“I don’t know!” Phobos yelled. “As far as I understand, some ritual went wrong. My brother and I are supposed to be five, but we look older.”

“You act older too,” the timid-looking man pointed out. Phobos rolled his eyes at him.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” he said.

“He was with Harry’s body?” The boy asked the adults.

“Yes,” the woman answered.

“Was that the ritual that went wrong?” the boy asked Phobos.

“In that creepy forest? No,” Phobos said. “that happened before. I don’t know _what_ was going on in the forest.”

“Call Teddy,” the boy said. Then, he left. The man followed after him and the woman waved her wand over him for a little while longer before giving him a Dreamless Sleep potion. Phobos knocked it back and lay down. His last thoughts were:

_Hate you. Hate you. Hate you._

_Is that so?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know your thoughts. :)


	8. Brothers From The Same Mother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be out yesterday, but my boss happened and I wasn't able to come home until midnight-ish instead of 2200-ish. Anyhow, enjoy. :)

“Our mother always loved him better,” Deimos told Teddy, as they landed on Hogwarts grounds. “He was the perfect little boy. Not weak like me.”

“Who? Your brother?” Teddy asked. “How come?” They walked towards the castle in silence for a while until Deimos finally answered.

“He was always more like her,” Deimos said, quietly. “Self-absorbed and unburdened by things my mother considered useless. Things like love and feelings in general.”

“So,” Teddy said with a small smile, as he pushed the castle doors open, “are you trying to subtly tell me that I should expect a cold, unfeeling bastard when we get there?” Deimos let out a startled laugh.

“You’ve met him before,” he answered. “How do you not know this already?” Teddy immediately became somber again.

“When we saw him, he was completely catatonic,” Teddy explained. “He did absolutely nothing except stare and hiss a little from time to time.” Deimos frowned but said nothing.

“Is he a parseltongue?” Teddy asked, suddenly. Then he looked away, feeling a bit self-conscious. “I know it’s ridiculous and the ability died out with Voldemort, but I just had to ask.”

“No,” Deimos answered. He started unbuttoning his shirt and Teddy felt hot in his cheeks. The metamorphagus felt really stupid when the boy only undid the first three buttons to let a brown snake poke its head out. Deimos turned an amused stare on him.

“Why’s your hair pink, all of a sudden?” he asked. The warmth spread into Teddy’s ears.

“I’m a metamorphagus,” he said by way of explanation. Deimos nodded and didn’t push the subject.

“It’s not ridiculous,” Deimos said and Teddy gave him a confused look. “You asked if Phobos is a parseltongue. We both are. We inherited it. The Slytherin line isn’t the only line with the ability.”

“Oh. Then it makes sense.”

“But we are Slytherins,” Deimos finished. Teddy came to a halt in front of the Hospital Wing door but the boy didn’t wait for him to snap out of it. He went in and Teddy was forced to follow him. Phobos was sitting in a hospital bed, glaring at Thomas and Draco Malfoy.

***

Phobos woke up with the distinct feeling that he had, despite the dreamless sleep potion, had a terrible nightmare. A man, with hair so blond it looked white, stood over him. Potter stood on the other side of the bed. The man frowned at him and turned to Potter.

“You know how I was, basically, your father’s personal healer?” he asked Potter.

“Yeah?” The black-haired boy prompted.

“Well, I got really used to his magical signature,” the man said. “And I could pick it out of a crowd with my eyes blindfolded.”

“Merlin, get on with it Malfoy!” Potter said, exasperated.

“It’s _Healer_ Malfoy to you, brat,” the man corrected. “And I was getting there. This kid has the exact same magical signature. And I don’t mean similar like yours. Your magic _resembles_ your father’s. But this kid? His magic is an exact copy of your old man’s magic.” Potter blinked.

“What does that mean?” he asked Healer Malfoy.

“I have no idea,” Malfoy answered. “But it can’t be anything good if what you say is true.” Malfoy turned back to him.

“Strip,” he told Phobos.

“What?!” the boy spluttered. Healer Malfoy rolled his eyes and Vanished Phobos’ hospital clothes. Phobos screamed and try to cover himself, to preserve some dignity. Belatedly, he remembered what was on his back. By then, Healer Malfoy had already seen it and Phobos groaned in his hands. Healer Malfoy gave him hospital clothes again, and Phobos rushed to dress.

“Why do you have the rune, Algiz, tattooed onto your back?” Potter asked. Healer Malfoy also raised an eyebrow at him. Fortunately, they were interrupted by the arrival of Deimos and a shockingly-pink-haired man.

_:Why are **you** here?: _ Phobos snarled at Deimos. His twin simply smiled and Menelaus hissed in laughter around his neck.

_:Oh, come on, dear brother,:_ Deimos said with a pleasant smile that made Phobos want to knock his teeth out of his mouth. _:You’ve been, ah, “missing” for the past two weeks. I was worried about you.”_

_:That what you told them?:_ Phobos asked. _:That I was missing and **you**_ **,** _out of all people in this world, were worried about me?:_ Phobos snorted and sent a one-finger salute Deimos’ way. The pink-haired man looked horrified.

_:Why, yes, Brother,:_ Deimos said looking a little contrite. Say what you would about him, but that boy was an honest to goodness great actor. _:And now, you’re so helpfully convincing them that you’re the self-centred prick I painted you as. How thoughtful of you.:_

“Fuck you, Deimos,” Phobos answered, angrily. “You can go die for all I care. Just stay the fuck away from me and all will be good.”

“But we’re brothers, Phobos,” Deimos answered, tone a little desperate. “Mother is gone too. I don’t know where and I’m willing to bet you don’t either. We’ve only got each other left. Please don’t leave me, too.”

“I don’t need you,” Phobos answered, venomously. He was well aware that he was playing right into the little psychopath’s trap, but he couldn’t care less at that point. Let him fool the whole world, Phobos just wanted to be left alone. And if he was made out to be an evil git, well then, all the better. People would just run that much further away from him, and that was fine by Phobos.

Tears gathered in the corners of Deimos’ eyes and he turned to the pink-haired man, acting like he did not quite know what to do. Then, with a _:Thank you, little brother.:,_ he ran out of the hospital wing, the pink-haired man on his trail. If Phobos had been anyone else, he’d truly have believed that his elder brother was actually heartbroken. As it was, Phobos was only impressed with the other’s acting skills and thought that Voldemort would’ve been proud.

***

Thomas and his Voldemort memories worked in tandem to understand what had just happened between the two brothers. He no longer understood parselspeech but the Voldemort memories felt that not all was as it seemed. Deimos, especially, seemed rather suspicious despite his sincere attitude. Thomas and the Voldemort memories agreed on that much. The purple-eyed boy seemed a bit shifty. At least, Phobos was an honestly spiteful bastard. With him, Thomas and Voldemort had the gut feeling that what they saw was what they got. With Deimos… Something felt off.

“So,” Thomas said as he turned back to Phobos. “What’s the deal with Algiz on your back?”

“My mother is Voldemort’s daughter,” Phobos told him. “She, just like him, has always been obsessed with great things. Algiz represents the divine might of the universe and I think that that’s why it’s tattooed onto my back.”

“I feel like you’re not telling us everything,” Healer Malfoy stated.

“That’s because _I_ don’t know everything,” Phobos answered.

“But you feel like there’s more to it?” Thomas prompted. Phobos nodded and Thomas decided to let that matter rest. “On a cheerier note, what’s up with Sally McWaterworks?”

“Who?” Phobos asked, confused. Healer Malfoy sent Thomas an equally confounded look.

“Your whimpering brother,” Thomas said. Phobos looked taken aback for a moment, before breaking out in laughter. Healer Malfoy was less amused, but that was okay. Phobos’ laughter was nice enough that it made up for it.

_Woah there, Potter_ , Thomas thought. _Don’t go falling for another pretty face with a nice smile. We all know how that ended last time._ Thomas’ inner voice sounded suspiciously like Scorpius Malfoy’s constant nagging. Thomas knew that Albus’ boyfriend meant well, but, Merlin was he a nag.

And, _Morgana_ , but Phobos’ laughter was damn nice.

_You’ll bloody regret this, Thomas,_ said the inner Scorpius voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how was it? Important question: Should I make Teddy and Deimos a pairing? I think it would make for a rather cliche, but interesting side-plot. But I also can't see Teddy with anyone but Victoire. So?


	9. The Importance of Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who wanted to know what the fuck Harry was doing in the Forbidden Forest.

Teddy went after Deimos as the boy ran away from his brother. Suddenly, a blast of magical energy left Deimos’ body and both, the snake and Teddy, were thrown away. Deimos immediately ran to Teddy and whispered in his ear. Teddy’s eyes darted to the snake and he nodded. Deimos walked away and the beast slithered back towards him, hissing furiously. The boy tried to kick it, but it was relentless and eventually made its way back up his torso.

***

_“Why are you doing this?” Harry asked, desperate. He was lying in the dirt as he attempted to struggle out of the bindings holding him there, but the caster was incredibly powerful and, even though Harry was one of the greatest wizards currently alive, he could not get out of them. A few feet away, a white-haired young man lay, unconscious and sickly._

_“I’m sorry, there’s no other way,” the man answered. Harry tried to get a good look at his tormentor, but he had shrouded his face in a powerful disillusionment charm._

_“I have a family,” Harry said, tears gathering in his eyes. “A wife and four teenagers. Please don’t do this. I haven’t made up with my son yet. I was being stupid, because I was hurt. I don’t want to go away like this. Please.”_

_“I’m terribly sorry,” the man answered in a broken voice. “I swear, if there was any other way, I would take it. I don’t want to hurt you. No one understands the meaning of family better than me. And if you weren’t so powerful, I wouldn’t have chosen you in the first place. But you’re the only one I can use for this ritual.”_

_The man drew a rune circle in the dirt around Harry and started chanting. Harry’s chest hurt so much and, as the man chanted, the pain grew more and more unbearable. Eventually, the front of his shirt was soaked in blood and Harry felt himself being pulled into the air by the crimson area. The man did something and the white-haired boy materialised beneath Harry’s floating body. The man chanted even more and the pain became so white-hot that Harry started to scream and scream. Some part of him hoped that_ anyone _or_ anything _in this forest would hear him and rescue him from this mad man._

_But no one came._

_***_

_He wasn’t supposed to leave Phobos like that, in the dirt. And he wouldn’t have if the mark on his back hadn’t started to burn so badly. He cast a number of protection spells on the boy and hoped that he would be found soon by someone willing to help. Then, finally, he Disapparated._

***

Phobos glared at Thomas Potter. The green-eyed devil was holding two suitcases. One for himself, the other, for unfathomable reasons, Phobos’.

“What kind of stupid arrangement is this?” Phobos demanded.

“Well, Teddy insisted that we take you in,” Thomas answered. “And I rather agree. I’d like to keep you somewhere I can see you and keep an eye on all of your actions. I like to think that we should be able to prevent anything sinister coming out of you this way.”

“Then why don’t you just let the auror department take care of that?” Phobos often questioned Thomas’ sanity these days. Far from being angry towards him for being found with Harry’s body, the raven had taken to spending most of his free time with Phobos. Healer Malfoy and Madame Longbottom, both, agreed that it was likely some sort of defense mechanism and that Thomas was running away from his grief by trying to figure out the puzzle that was Phobos Riddle. Phobos remained convinced that Thomas had a few screws that were in need of tightening.

“Look,” Thomas said, exasperated. “It’s either Potter Cottage or Teddy’s flat in London. You don’t want to be in Teddy’s flat in London. That place is unfit for the living and my conscience won’t let me allow you to stay there, knowing that you might not be properly fed. And that’s the _least_ of my concerns about living with Teddy.” Phobos rolled his eyes but accepted the suitcase the boy was handing him.

“That’s a good boy,” Thomas said. “Plus, it won’t be for free. You’ll help around the house, just like Al, Lily, and I.” Phobos groaned and Thomas chuckled. They went to join Lily and Albus in their compartment on the train. Thomas had told his siblings that Phobos was a witness in a high profile case that Teddy was working on and that he would be staying with them until Teddy could find somewhere safer to put him.

Albus had objected at first, pointing out that, as Harry Potter’s family, the Potters were constantly in the public eye and that would make it way too easy to find Phobos. But Thomas had countered with the fact that, as Head of the DMLE, Harry had become extremely paranoid at one time and had set so many protection spells on their property that, short of an army, no one should be able to get to their home. As long as Ginny keyed Phobos into the wards, there would be no problem.

Of course, that turned out to be the biggest problem. As soon as she saw Phobos, Ginny started to scream for her children to get behind her and pointed her wand at the white-haired boy. It seemed that Thomas hadn’t known that Ginny was aware of what Tom Riddle had looked like in his younger years.

“Thomas, what are you doing?” Ginny said, frantically. “Come here and get behind me.”

“It’s okay, Ginny,” Thomas reassured her. “This isn’t Voldemort. This is his grandson, Phobos.” Ginny gave him a bewildered look and tried to grab his hand to pull him back into the house while Phobos took the whole situation in with terribly-timed amusement. His small smile only served to make him more sinister and less trustworthy in Ginny’s eyes. Thomas decided that it would be best to simply firecall Teddy and get him to come clear up the mess. Phobos sat on the Cottage’s front steps as he waited.

Eventually, Teddy tumbled through the fireplace and spent half an hour convincing Ginny that Phobos was not a known threat and that he simply needed to be monitored. He had to promise to move back into his old room for Ginny to finally agree to let Phobos in.

“It would’ve been easier to just move in with Teddy,” Phobos muttered when Thomas finally came to collect him. The raven chuckled and gave him a playful shove before promptly turning red in the face.

“You have nice arms,” Thomas said. Phobos blinked a few times in confusion.

“Er, thanks. I guess,” he answered, unsure of the proper etiquette in such an awkward situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As one of my teachers used to say at the end of each of his lectures: "Comments? Questions? Insults?"


	10. Falling Apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nuwooo! I couldn't resist. So, turns out, I just took a short break from this story. And now, I'm back. Here. Have a new chapter and please let me know how you felt. This chapter was made possible due to Slashtastic's feedback. As you see, your comments are all read and really important!

Phobos stared at the toilet bowl in disgust. All of his breakfast from that morning, plus a little blood, had found its way up his oesophagus, and out of his mouth. Thomas stood behind him, looking a little concerned.

“Maybe you caught something,” the green-eyed boy muttered. He ran a soothing hand up and down Phobos’ back as the latter cried, head lolling against the white ceramic.

“No,” Phobos lamented. “It could be what I had before. Maybe it’s coming back. I knew it was too good to be true.” At this, Thomas raised a brow.

“You used to be sick before?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Phobos answered. “Our mother forcefully aged us faster. It couldn’t have come without consequences, could it?” Thomas hummed and settled on the floor next to Phobos as the white-haired boy went for another bout of vomiting. They stayed that way, Phobos intermittently heaving and Thomas attempting to soothe him, until Ginny came to call them for lunch. Phobos excused himself, saying that he was too sick to even entertain the idea of eating. That was partly true. The real reason, though, was that Phobos had no idea how to act around them. Especially around their grief.

The Potters were great actors. They seemed to have even convinced themselves that they were over it. Over their patriarch’s death. Phobos knew better. Their grief shone through, always.

It appeared in the way Ginny’s eyes glazed over whenever she looked at the empty chair at the head of the table. Every time she did that, Phobos noticed that Thomas clenched his hands in tight fists under the table. Phobos had tried to unclench them once because it looked so painful, but Thomas had glared at him with such ferocity that he had never tried again.

It appeared in the way that James avoided visiting his family whenever he could, reasons ranging from “I can’t get off work” to “My bloody washing machine stopped working and I have to stay until the repair guy gets here.” Thomas assured Phobos that James had no washing machine, instead using a laundry service which he could afford, despite his status as a trainee-auror, because of his trust fund.

It appeared in the way Lily tended to avoid Albus and Thomas who, as Phobos had learnt from the grinning photographs in the ever-empty living room, looked most like Harry. Thomas seemed especially hurt by this because, as he told Phobos, Lily had always been his best friend.

It appeared in the way Albus constantly insisted on his dates with Scorpius be spent at home because, as he reasoned, “We’d only be accosted by reporters outside and it’d ruin the whole thing, wouldn’t it?” Scorpius, ever the accommodating boyfriend, said nothing. Even when most of their dates were spent with Albus anxiously glancing over at Ginny. Thomas would approve, Phobos thought.

Perhaps the most heart-wrenching reaction was Thomas’. The boy clearly knew he looked exactly like his father, if perhaps taller (Phobos had pointed that out once, only to be told that Mr. Potter would have been taller had he not been a mal-nourished child. Phobos had not wanted to open that can of worms). Hence, Thomas attempted to make himself scarce. He stayed in his room or spent his time with Phobos who also avoided the Potters. He avoided eye contact because, although Albus also had green eyes, only Thomas had Mr. Potter’s exact shade of green. Every time he did that, Ginny had a pinched expression on her face but, for reasons that escaped Phobos, she never told Thomas to stop. Phobos supposed she had a right to be a little selfish. The love of her life had died.

When Teddy eventually moved in after finalising everything that needed to be so, Phobos no longer attempted to mask the fact that he was actively hiding from the Potters. Despite his generally sunny disposition, Teddy was the only one who had a healthy way of dealing with his pain as he faced it head on and accepted its presence. This meant that he was prone to short bouts of crying whenever he encountered anything that reminded him, even remotely, of his dead godfather. Phobos, having no idea how to comfort anyone, was always uncomfortable in such situations. So, he avoided Teddy as much as possible.

Phobos was lying on his bed, staring at the wall and trying to fall asleep, when he felt Thomas’ familiar presence in his bed. The raven settled in his usual position, head between Phobos’ shoulder blades and fingers curling in his pyjama top. Thomas had started doing that sometime at the beginning of summer and Phobos had only questioned it once. “You feel safe. Like you could protect me from the world,” came the answer. And Phobos had never said anything again. Sometimes Thomas would grow bolder and slide their fingers together. Whenever he did that, something in Phobos seemed to dance the conga. He had no idea what it was, but it was a pleasant feeling and Phobos would turn his hand around and curl their fingers together.

“I want to try something new,” Thomas said, abruptly. Phobos turned around to face him.

“What is it?” he asked as the green-eyed boy put a warm hand on his cheek. Phobos reveled in the feeling, the inner-whatever-it-was vigorously going about its conga-routine. Thomas brought their face closer and the conga picked up in speed. Their noses bumped together and then, their lips met. Phobos followed the conga-dancer’s instructions and deepened the kiss and Thomas sighed in pleasure. He brought Phobos’ hands to his hips and knotted his own in the boy’s top. They spent the rest of the night thoroughly mapping each other’s mouths with their tongues, before falling asleep.

***

Thomas woke up to the sound of Phobos dry-heaving in the bathroom. This was getting more and more worrying by the day. The white-haired boy woke up sick almost every morning now. If he hadn’t been male, Thomas would have thought that he was pregnant. As it was, the green-eyed boy was starting to worry that Phobos had been right and that his illness really _was_ coming back. Thomas had to get the details out of him if they were going to deal with the problem.

By the time Thomas had gotten to the bathroom, Phobos had gotten silent. Thomas pushed the door open and was greeted with the sickening sight of Phobos fainted on the floor. The toilet water was devoid of bile or food residue. It was simply red. Thomas ran and knelt next to Phobos’ head. The boy’s lips were stained red and Thomas checked him for any other signs of injury. His left hand’s fingers were also red, but there was no injury. However, painted on the floor, in Phobos’ scrawl was a phrase that Thomas did not recognise as he hadn’t heard it through his door.

_“Is that so?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for how short it was despite my recent absence, but I'm thinking you'd all prefer quality over quantity. If I write too much, it just becomes drivel. Thank you for your comments. I live for the feedback. Also, did you like the nod to Harry's conga-monster from the Half-Blood Prince?
> 
> P. S.: This story has not been discontinued. Yet. It has a second part and i've already posted the first chapter. I'll be continuing it only if there's some interest for it. There's really no point in posting a story on AO3 if it isn't being read.


	11. Sneak Peek of Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... It's been pointed out to me that the reason part 2 is not getting as much attention as this one is because you guys don't know there's a part 2. The following is paragraph 1 of chapter 1 of part 2. If you'd like to read the rest, please click on the link to the next installment below.

Healer Malfoy was a busy man. He had no time for his own son sometimes. Yet, he somehow always managed to make time for the blasted Potters. He knew, from his extensive Healing studies, that this behaviour was somehow related to his blasted guilt, unfortunate leftover of the War. Yet, he had never sought to correct it. This feeling did not seem to prevent him from functioning in society. Quite the opposite. Scorpius constantly maintained that he was a better man for it. He wasn’t sure how healthy it was but he was rather proud of the man Draco Malfoy was, because of it. Of course, that might be related more to the fact that Healer Malfoy’s guilt extended to everyone he had looked down upon and hurt during the War. Healer Malfoy was everything Draco Malfoy had once sneered at and everything that Astoria Malfoy had fallen in love with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's to hoping i haven't lost your attention yet. I'll still write the story for those who are still reading because i'm nothing if not loyal. But for those who choose to leave now, i'd love to know why you're no longer reading. It could be a really good learning experience for me. But if you say nothing, i learn nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment and let me know if you want me to finish this story.


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